


The Color of the Beast

by BagtheBagisnotaBag



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU - Psiioniic wasn't a Helmsman, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternia, Bar Room Brawl, Bulges and Nooks, Come Inflation, Cult of the Signless Sufferer, Embedded Images, Frottage, Horn Stimulation, M/M, Masturbation, Overstimulation, Psionic Bondage, Sensory Deprivation, Smut, Troll Biology (Homestuck), Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-29 23:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15739575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BagtheBagisnotaBag/pseuds/BagtheBagisnotaBag
Summary: Someone is causing a scene at a bar on Psiioniics way home, so he decides to step inside. It's not like he is any rush to be on his way and there is something about the place that draws him closer.A man is preaching onstage, spreading his message about love and peace and catches Psiioniic's eye. At that moment he does not realise that their meeting will change his life nor of all the secrets Signless holds. But he will follow and he will learn and together they will find their place.It's just a bonus that Signless is hot as fuck.





	1. The Shape of his Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dogslug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dogslug/gifts).



You’re wandering home late one night when you notice a gathering of trolls around a Recreational Soporifics Lounge. It’s the edge if the crowd that you notice first; a murmur of tense mutterings and one too many drawn strife specibus. The unease catches your interest and you decide to step inside. The building is full beyond capacity, any people not seated at tables loiter against the walls, sipping their drinks or whispering in tight circles but all of them are focused in one direction. The room is packed with people near the door.

But you are tall for your caste and easily see past the sea of horns to the stage beyond.

The man onstage is wearing dark gray tones streaked with anonymous imperial red and displays no visible sign. He’s speaking to the crowd from his elevated height and every set of eyes look up at him, be they hostile or reverent.

"You there!" He walks over to one of the trolls seated before the stage, "Do you feel compassion for your neighbor or only hate?" She says something back, too quiet to hear and he smiles, then gestures to the whole room. "Why do we decide to inflict hate on every passing troll when an act of kindness holds a wonder of possibilities." The soft timbre of his voice carries easily to where you are standing near the door. "In another life, they could be your lover, but your choice to hate first, cast that chance away."

There is a commotion as several people around you are shoved. Several blue bloods push past you to the center of the room. Your eyes dart around. There is an obvious rift in this audience. Low bloods at the front are hanging onto this mans every word, while a blue blood from the group that just entered strides forward with his axekind drawn.

The speaker continues, obviously ignoring the interruption. "The downtrodden know what it means to be respected. That freely given respect, they only find in their closest companions, but it does not have to be that way." The blue blood reaches him, and the speaker displays his empty hands to the crowd. "We could react with compassion for a stranger, not hate." The angry troll swings his axekind in a wide arc but the preacher just steps in close and catches his arm, "We could see the kindness in their eyes before we saw the color of their sign." He paps the trolls cheek with his palmkind "In this world, we make our own freedom, the freedom to live as we truly are."

His actions shock you. This man is using moirallegiance as a weapon. The attacking troll falters under his pale onslaught, steps back in a daze, stumbles, and is caught by one of his lackeys.

"I see this possibility in every one of you." suddenly the man onstage catches your eye, "The possibility to change." He winks at you. "To be the change this world and every other deserves."

The second blue blood snarls and charges forward with her nun-chuckkind gripped in her claws. You make the split second realization that the speaker's calmkind won't work on her. She is moving with a swift precision, her strife specibus held ready to attack. Then you are blazing forward in a burst of red and blue energy that parts the crowd around you.

People start stampeding. Those frenzied enough join the fight. You lose sight of the preacher.

A brown blood with wide hooked horns charges into your path with a war cry. You pluck him out of the air, dumping him on the teal he was aiming for. They go down in a flurry of violent limbs.

A table is sent toppling, clearing a brief path for you. You reach the preacher just as his fistkind connects with his assailant, sending her flying. "Are you OK?" You ask. You wonder if he has any strife weapons or if he only fights unarmed.

He grins at you and runs a hand through his hair. "This was not my intended effect." That startles a laugh out of you. Movement catches the edge of your vision and you sway out of the way of someones flailing limbs.

A troll screeches behind you and you hear the clatter of something heavy and wooden collide with the wall. "You don't seem the type to start bar fights."

"Do I not?" he ducks a thrown plate and bumps into someone behind him, "Yet this is the third bar fight to start from one of my preachings." 

Someone stagers into the preacher, leaking maroon. He catches them even as you go to blast them with your psi "Uhh. Can you stand?" The maroon slumps further against the preacher and does not reply.

You are getting antsy with all these trolls bumping about. Plus it’s not right to leave someone wounded in the middle of a warplateau. You step closer, "let's move her outside. The blue bloods might regroup and come after you again."

He nods and swiftly hefts the stranger's arm around his shoulder. You grab one of her arms to help him. Both of you bear her weight between you and head to the exit. Her head lolls against your shoulder as you start forward. "Thckkkss."

You slap any troll in your path against the walls with you psionics and drag your new charge past with little hesitation. People seem to be too busy whopping each other to notice the three of you depart and you make it outside with little hassle. 

You step out into the street and huff out a steamy breath in the cool night air.

"Cairon!" someone yells. Then there is a troll in front of you grasping at your injured charge. They notice the preacher and startle. "Oh! Signless! I didn't mean to give you trouble! Thank you! Thank you so much! I was there for your speech!" Their eyes shine and they glance back at their friend. "I can take Her from her. Thank you so much! I'll get her home." You ease Cairon onto their shoulder. "But your message! It meant so much to me! If you’re in town preaching again I'll be there for sure!"

Signless. So that's his title? Signless smiles at her and replies, "Thank you. It's good to know I have support when I preach. What should I call you?” 

The stranger beams back at him. “I go by The Ranger but that’s still a work in progress so don’t even bother about that. You can call me Annice!”

“Annice, I’ll remember that. If you are still interested in the rest of my message I’ll be at the Hack Shack tomorrow at the same hour for hopefully a quieter affair."

Annice nods and departs with the semi-conscious Cairon after an overly exuberant farewell. Signless grins at you and shrugs. “That was easier than I thought. I expected we would have to patch Cairon up ourselves.” He shakes his head, “But enough about that. We have only just met. I’m The Signless. What is your name?”

“Psiioniic. I mean. The Psiioniic. I’m called The Psiioniic.” You stammer yourself to a stop and click your mouth shut.

He laughs good-naturedly. “A pleasure to meet you, Psiioniic.”

Somehow you end up talking to him on the step of the pub until the sun starts to lighten the sky. Signless is fascinating. He tells you of his travels across the country talking to any who will hear him of his vision of a better life. In truth, he has not been preaching long but word has spread fast of his sayings and in every new town there are more people willing to hear what he has to say and more people who would rather he never speak again. 

He is so utterly charming and his vision of the future is so bright. He even has the good graces to ask about _you_.

“Are you just passing through this way?”

“I, uhh, yes. -No, I live in this town.” You can’t think straight. His eager grin is so charming.

He easily navigates your stumble. “I have kept you here so long. Are you in a hurry to get home then? I have a room above this establishment if you want to talk some more. The sun is rising. I’d worry you would get caught in the daylight. Plus, I would like to get to know you better.”

He is asking you to stay the day with him, “I’m in no hurry.”

“Then let’s take this inside. Follow me. It’s just around the back.”

You follow.


	2. The Touch of his Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time for some _juicy_ pictures. *wonk*

Signless fumbles with the keys at the top of the stairs and then leads you down a short hall to his door. Somehow you stumble your way into Signless’ rent block. He’s as excited as you are as he unlocks the door and you follow him into his room and locks the door behind him.

Then before you can open your mouth to speak he pushes you up against the wall. 

Fuck. Yes.

He presses you full body against the wall, his hands gripping your wrists, holding your arms tight by your side in those deft hands of his. Your eyes go hooded and feel yourself stirring in your pants. When you woke up this morning this is not how you expected this night to go but you are not complaining. 

He leans in close, "Do you kiss strangers? Would you lend me those lips so I can taste you?" You hold your breath as he moves closer still, his soft lips brushing against the side of your cheek as he whispers to you. "Your's were the only eyes a saw tonight. Can I kiss you?" 

Your voice is a whispered croak. "yes." Yes. Hell fucking yes. 

He pushes your hands up the wall until they’re caught high above you and presses his body closer. You can feel the weight of him against you, from his chest to his thighs he is pressed in tight against your own and you shudder. He brushes your cheek with his lips.

"You don't know what you did to me down there. Such strength. A brightness in your soul. Such passion." He kisses you on the cheek and grips your wrists harder. "I want to feel it."

“Yssss,” You whimper and press against him, body to body, he just holds you up stronger and grinds his bone bulge against yours. "Hush. only speak if you want me to stop." His eyes bore holes into yours. You just want to sink into him and let him devour you. "Do you want to stop?"

You push up against him and shake your head, your lips sealed shut and a tight reign keeping your psionics in check. If only you wished, you could throw him from you. If you did not want to be here, you would not be. You wish for nothing else but to let him take you. 

Signless pushes up against you, grinding, and you tremble in his arms. His hands are steady on your wrists, holding you in place. You can feel your sheath parting, the tip of your bulge peeking out. Your heart beats against your ribs, trying to break out.

Signless growls, sultry and low. "You are wearing so many clothes." Suddenly he’s pulling you forward by the arms, stepping back towards the couch. He grins at you. "If you want to stop only say the word. Tell me now before this hunger devours me." You shake your head vigorously and feel your bulge slip out into your tights as he suddenly leans in close and kisses you. Then he spins you around and tips you back onto the couch

You land with a crackle of unintended psionics as you automatically catch yourself. "Ahh. I noticed your psi during the fight. Can you tie your own hands with that gift of yours? I want you to keep them above your head. Easy now." He pulls his cloak off and suddenly you can see the full length of him. He is made of lithe muscle, his skintight undergarments reach high enough to just cover his pecks. You see the movement of his bulge confined by the tight fabric.

You do as he says. You secure your hands behind you with psionics. There is nowhere else you would ever wish to be than right here. You let your eyes glide over his body and feel your bulge react to your desire. 

But he has other, better, ideas than to let you admire him from afar. He climbs up onto the couch over you and leans down to kiss you. "You are so good. Such a gift" His lips are burning hot against your own, warmer than any troll you have bed with before, and you arch into the weight above you. You feel a flush spread down your chest at the movement of his bulge against your own as he settles his weight on you. You buck into it. 

Your bulge is a frenzy of movement against the rough fabric of your pants and you whine. You want to cup his face. But he told you to keep your hands held. Instead of giving in, you tighten the psionic hold around your wrists.

"Fuck," he utters panting against your lips. "Why are you still wearing clothes." You just shake against him and press your forehead against his own. You press your lips to his and lift the full weight of him with your hips. "Yes," he pants "Yes. I'm on it."

He runs his hands down your arms, tracing your skin through the fabric with his claws. You lick into his mouth and press up against him, encouraging him. You are almost fucking him like this, thrusting your hips against his. The movement of his bulge against yours is heavenly. Your own bulge thrashes and wiggles down lower, trying to find a nook it will never reach confined as it is in your pants.

His roaming claws run close to your throat, you shiver and go still, heart racing, hands still caught tight by your own psionic grip. It’s an innate reaction to his claws at your neck. He could rip your throat out, a wash of cold sweeps over you and you hold back a shiver.

His claws move on, tracing round to your back, leaving a tingling trail of sensation in their wake. He licks into your mouth, soft and sweet. All the while tracing a line down your back with his claws.

You have an overwhelming urge to touch him back, to grip him tight and just thrust into the tight heat between your bodies. It takes extreme mental strength to keep your hands locked tight above you. It’s almost enough to feel the soft heat of his lips against yours, to feel his hands grip you tight as you thrust against him. 

You can feel every movement of his bulge against yours even through two layers of cloth. Signless parts from your lips to moan into your ear and shudder. Every thrust of your hips grinds your clothed bulges together and lifts him up into the air.

"You're so strong. Fuck that's hot." He's just gripping the back of your one piece at this point, hanging on as he rides your thrusts. He licks the shell of your ear, making it twitch.

Your grinding has an almost painful edge to it but you can't stop. You want the slick heat of his bulge against your own but all you get is rough fabric. You pant and whine at him, licking at his lips when they're in reach and panting into his mouth.

His hand moves from where it is behind you to the top of your zipper at the base of your neck.

But his hand is pressed against the couch by your weight. This is a problem. You don't want to stop. But you have to get up to get your clothes off. Your hands are still suspended above you by your own power. 

Hmm. Your power.

You extend your psionics over both of your bodies and lift the two of you into the air.

"Fuck." He startles. His spare hand grips one of your horns and you almost drop as his palm muffles the world slightly. "I can work with this." With his hand now freed from its tight confines, he pulls your zip down and peals as much of the jumpsuit off as he can while still being attached to you at the pelvis. His hand is burning warm even against your flushed skin. 

His hand snakes down your back to grip your ass. You drop with a start back down to the couch. It isn't a long drop but the shock of it bumps you together almost painfully.

"Easy," he says, a hand still full of plush ass. "I'll get you off soon."

"Please." you let out.

He pauses at the sound of your voice. "Do you wish to stop?" his movements have ceased. You do not wish him to stop.

"I want to touch you." Your hands are still held back by your own will, clenched together and sweaty.

He smiles down at you. "Don't scare me like that. I thought you were done with me. You can touch me. I didn't mean to hold you back from your desires."

For a second you just keep panting against him, the movement of your bulge in its confines smothering all your other thoughts. Then you realize what he said and release the crackle of psionic energy on your hands. You reach slow stiff limbs down to snake around his shoulders and hug him close.

His hand makes its way back to your ass while his other hand pushes down the front of your suit. Your bulge wiggles to greet it.

Yessssss. You start pealing at his pants too where they sit up under his arms.

He kisses you deeply as his hand twines with your bulge, squeezing it in turn and winding it around his fingers. You can feel it drip onto your stomach where it has already made a mess soaking through your clothes.

You press your forked tongue into his mouth and feel him moan back, his breath is fast and hot against your lips. You make deft work of his pants, pulling them down around his thighs, fumbling as you're overwhelmed by his slicked hand on your bulge.

His other hand continues to fondle you from behind, a finger snakes down to find your nook as much as it can, restricted by its confines.

Signless wiggles down slightly, pulling away and breaking the kiss. Then you feel another bulge twining around his hand with yours. His hand squeezes them both together making you buck up and keen.

[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/158984122@N05/T97395)

"Fuck." He shudders and shifts his weight, moving his legs to either side of yours. Your bulges almost disentangle as he repositions but they squeeze each other instead, holding on to the others sensitive heat. They drip in the space between you, making your nook moisten with their slick.

You pull him closer by his thighs and he shuffles to reposition where your bulges can tangle close again. Glancing down you are momentarily shocked at the bright beast red of his bulge. It's the color of animals. A shade redder than the Empress herself. 

His bright red slurry is mixing with yours.

[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/158984122@N05/0LQJ27)

You have never seen someone more beautiful. His eyes are half open, his head tipped back as he grinds his bulge sensually against yours, helping them slide against each other as they tangle, their movements sparking a cascade of pleasure deep in your bones.

Your bulge grips harder and coils frantically at the racing of your heart as you stare into the face of a god.

You can feel the tremble of his thighs in your hands and the slick heat of sweat and slurry between you. You can feel molten heat pooling in your belly. You nook clenches around nothing, making its own need known.

Your bulge winds around and guides his bulge down until it finds the cleft of your nook and wiggles its way in, sparking nodes of pleasure, making him gasp and you pant.

He blinks lidded eyes down at you, leaning his weight onto your chest. His arms are trembling, barely holding him up.

You rock your hips slowly under him, feeling the push and undulation of his bulge as it moves deeper inside you.

Your own bulge gets with the program and finally stops smearing his front with yellow. It wiggles down lower and finds the soft heat of his nook. Signless shudders against you as you enter him. You arch up into him, taking his weight. It's so warm, unbelievably warm.

Your heart is beating a wild drum in your chest. The dual feeling of being filled and being gripped tight in soft warm heat is all you can think of. Signless kneads at your chest. His hand tensing on you as you shudder deep within him, then his claws release in turn.

Both of your bulges press past each other, seeking the heat of the others nook, you are pressed together tight at the crotch. You can't stop moving your hips. The slight extra slide of sensitive skin against his soft slick skin builds up in you.

You notice that your claws are pressed hard against his leg, almost breaking the skin where you are gripping his thighs, keeping him close, and you let go. You didn't notice. You were just overwhelmed and blinded by the feel of him in you and around you and all through you.

You slide your hands up his thighs to his ass, somehow it presses you even closer. You can feel the tip of his bulge nudging against your seed flap with every other thrust. His bulge has started to slow in you even as he pants harder and grinds faster against you. It’s fat and burning warm, saturated with blood, and pressing up against every sensitive part of you.

You feel your own pleasure creeping up on you, your bulge heavy and stretching as deep as it can go in him. Your thrusts are almost frantic against him and you cannot think to stop. You press deep into him, your bulge stretching out, ready to release, and feel the flutter of his seedflap against your tip. You keen, and your back arches. You feel the sharp pain of him gripping your chest with his claws, holding on.

Suddenly something shatters in you and you are shuddering, his seedflap is fluttering frantically against you bulge, pulling it in deeper as you release everything that has been building up to this moment. You feel the moment he joins you, your own seedflap fluttering in time with the frantic pounding of your heart, you feel a deep aching well in you start to fill.

For a long moment, you shudder together. Static zips along your skin as your psionics overload and your leg cramps as it twitches. You have to drop back from your arch onto the couch, and stretch out the leg, but unable to stop shuddering under him.

He is still releasing in pulses inside you, holding himself over you on trembling arms, his eyes are closed, his lips parted, and his head has dropped down to his chest. A drop of sweat drips from his nose.

You feel yourself filling up. It satisfies some hunger deep within you, even as your own bulge pulsates and releases its own slurry.

For a long time, you are connected as you shudder together. You breathe out hard and twitch one last time. 

Then, as the pulses start to slow, Signless drops down to lie flat on your chest. All you can hear is your heart still pounding in your ears and the sound of heavy breathing. You both pant together for a while, feeling the flushed heat dissipate and your breathing settle back to normal. 

That was an experience.

You wrap your arms around him, feeling his chest rise and fall against you and the sticky heat of his skin against your own. Your bulges slowly retract out of each other making you shiver, oversensitive.

You feel boneless under the heavy weight of Signless. You can feel yourself sinking closer to sleep, warm and safe in his arms. 

“Are you staying?” He says quietly. 

You wish for nothing more but to stay. You are tired and warm and deeply happy. “If you want me to.” 

You can feel the vibrations of his soft voice through your chest. “I do. Stay the night. Let’s see where tomorrow brings us.” A soft rumble starts up in your thorax. A hum of assent that settles into a purr.

His own rumble soon joins yours until you are drifting close sleep to the soft vibrations between you.

He breaks the silence. “Augh. We should go to ‘coon.” His soft voice pulls you from the brink of your dreams. 

You squeeze him tighter, processing his words with your tired mind. “I got you.” Then you lift the two of you with your psionics and drift over to the recuperation in the corner of the room. 

You fall asleep wrapped around each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut round one


	3. The Wraith of his Mom

You are yanked from your slumber by your horn. Your eyes snap open to the brilliant jade fury of the woman leaning over you. She hisses and you shrink back. Holy shit. 

Signless stirs next to you. “Why are y - Mom! What the Fuck!” She releases you and straightens at his voice.

“I have been gone for _One Day_! Of all the reckless things you just had to bring a stranger into your ‘coon.” She steps back as Signless sloshes over to the edge of the ‘coon. You cower behind him.

“Mom, get out of my block.” 

“I will not! Have I taught you nothing.” 

Signless gives you a despairing look. “I’m so sorry for her.”

“You cannot just trust Strangers, Signless. Anyone could decide to cull you.” You climb over the back of the ‘coon away from the older troll.

You don’t bother getting changed or even wiping the spoor off, you just dash to the door. “Mom! Stop. You’re embarrassing me. Psiioniic, wait!” You turn just as Signless catches up with you. He presses his cloak into your hands, then pecks you on the lips. “I’ll be on Planter’s Crevice in the Hack Shack at the end of the night. Meet me there.”

You glance over at the angry adult troll behind him. “I’ll be there.” Then you slip out the door and down the stairs of the rent hive, pulling the cape on as you go.

Luckily it’s early enough in the night that you aren’t seen by many people as you make your way across town, crusty with spoor, shoe-less, and hardly clothed. You put on spurts of psionic speed, Signless’ cloak flapping in the breeze, and make it across town to your hive.

That was the most confusing and exhilarating experience you have had in your short life. 

At least he still seemed to want to see you again. You're not quite sure what the two of you are doing. You only just met him, but how can you not want him. That whole crowd wanted him in some way, and yet it was your eyes he sought out of the crowd. You stumble through your front door in a daze and then just stand there.

That jadeblood though. She was scary. And, Uhhhh. Did he call her his mom? But people use that word to describe their lusus. You had a neighbor with a Pandamom in your youth and on the floor above you Gerald still hasn't let go of his Squirrelmom. But just a mom? Just the suffix? And he is using it to describe an adult troll? You've never seen that before.

You snap back to the present and notice your sorry state. Your skin has started to itch from the spoor residue drying and you are only wearing a cloak. You head towards the ablutionblock. He has a troll mom. You turn the ablution trap tap on. But is she his lusus or some sort of quasi-auspistice? You dump his cloak on the ground and step into the water.

No matter what you think of her - and you’re not sure you're ever going to see her again - you still like Signless.

He sparked your interest with the way he talked. When you get down to it, his words called for equality. He wanted to end this blood feud between castes, possibly even to abolish the hemospectrum. He wanted to make all troll equal. It was no chance that it was the highbloods fighting back, and the lowbloods rising in support. You want to hear more of what he has to say.

And his blood is red. A color unseen before in the hemospectrum. He is a shade lighter than maroon, a shade darker than fuchsia.

He is the missing link.

You’ve sort of been stewing in your own juices for a while as you thought. The water is a murky brown from the spoor, street dirt, and genetic material.

You are still carrying his genetic material in your gene sack. It's a soft pressure in your abdomen, a noticeable swell in your slight frame. You have to do something about that. It can’t stay there forever.

The drones won't be here for another perigee at least so there is no point bucketing this load. It wouldn’t last until the drones got here. You’re just going to empty yourself out once you finish lazing about in the warm water. You press at the slight protrusion in your stomach, feeling the pressure of the liquid inside increase on your seed flap. The tip of your bulge peaks out into the water.

You think about satisfying that swelling desire that blooming in you or pushing it back down. 

Why not? It’s not as if you’ve anywhere to be right now. You let your bulge curl out into the water. 

It’s strange watching your bulge float free in the liquid. It feels light and surrounded by unnatural warmth. You let is curl around your hand, squeezing it around the base and letting it do as it wants. The water surrounds it and takes its weight as it moves around. You use your other hand to bat water towards it and feel the current brush past your bulge.

Yellow slick drifts off of it as it moves. You stroke your hand down the length of it to the tip, feeling pleasure coil deep in your gut. 

It settles around the weight in your abdomen as your seed flap clenches reflexively. You shiver and your bulge curls in between your fingers, seeking more of your touch.

You close your eyes and lean back in the water. This could be his hand touching you right now. You stroke down the length of it again and capture the end, feeling it twitch and squirm. It feels good, a growing weight of pleasure that makes your nook pulse with your heartbeat. 

Your toes curl and you spread out further in the tub. You start pumping and squeezing the length with both hands now. 

Thrusting makes the water slosh over the side onto the ground so you stop the harsh movement. You groan and cant your hips up. “Holy shit.” Your voice of a harsh whisper. Your head thuds against the back of the ablution trap. Your seedflap is fluttering and clenching as if to pull a bulge closer, but instead, it leaks the genetic material already in there. 

You are palming your bulge frantically now, you can feel your face screwing up, your eyes squeezed closed, just as you start to release. 

You squeeze and stroke your bulge as you shudder. A small plume of yellow mixes into the water. It’s not much but that doesn’t stop you from continuing to shake, heaving heavy breaths.

By the time the pleasure becomes overwhelming and you manage to pull your hand away from the sensitive skin the water is ruddy with your release. Both from the emptying of Signless’ load from your gene sack and your own orgasm. 

You heave, relaxing into the water. Then once you have caught your breath, you pull the plug and rinse yourself off.

What a start to your day.

And by the end you’ll get to see Signless once more.


	4. The Light in his Eyes

The Hack Shack is a much smaller recreational drinking establishment than the one you first saw Signless in. It’s also closer to your side of town and is therefore full of lowbloods relaxing and being themselves. The odd midblood is dotted around, drinking or laughing with their quadrantmates and hatefriends. 

So it’s only somewhat surprising to see Signless talking to a small gathering of people in one corner of the room. There isn’t a stage for him here but that doesn’t stop him from drawing the attention of a third of the trolls present. 

He doesn’t spot you straight away, as you watch his group.

He’s seated around a large table that is crowded with chairs stolen from other empty tables in the room. Most of the people sitting with Signless are watching him talk or whispering to their neighbor, but he is obviously the biggest presence in this small establishment. He’s so animated when he talks. He gestures to the person on his left, deep in conversation with them. 

You walk over to the table, snagging a stray chair as you go. It seems the table is just several tables pushed together. You sit down and tune into the conversation around you. 

“-make you less worthy than any other troll? Any troll can make a great change in the world and it is not their blood that made them do those great things.” Signless grins at you briefly as you sit down then turns back to the other troll.

“Then why are all the books full of highbloods?”

“Because those books are _written by_ highbloods. If lowbloods were to write down their own folk heroes the highbloods in books would not be so numerable. Lowbloods should be given the chance to write their history just like highbloods are. I have met talented people of all castes who have a story to tell. If only they were given the chance.” 

Over the next hour you hear many things from Signless. He opens up your thinking to things you had never thought before, things you had been too afraid to even contemplate. 

He is talking about changing the only hierarchy you have ever known. About doing things outside your caste. He talks about the people he has met on his travels. Of a seadweller who only wanted to be a farmer but lived his life as a reluctant captain instead. Of amazing leaders of people who, because of their blood, were left to scrub decks and play foot soldier. 

He makes you rethink your very existence. 

You sit and listen for hours - well after most people have left. Until it is only your dwindling group left in the Hack Shack and the Barconquerer comes over to kick you out politely but sternly. 

You pass him his cloak as you both leave the Hack Shack together. He pulls off the thin ratty one he was wearing and pulls on the cloak he lent you instead.

Signless tells you about his “Mom” as you follow him home. He tells you how she found him as a grub and took pity on him. There was no lusus that would take him in as there were none with blood his shade. She raised him just as a lusus would and believes in his preachings almost more than he does. 

Your life is nothing compared to all his adventures. You tell him how your psi has sometimes felt more like a curse. You are too powerful to go unnoticed and expect to be conscripted to the helm of a ship any perigee now. But rather than hide your power as others are want to do, you had decided to flaunt it, even going so far as to call yourself The Psiioniic. 

If the helm is inevitable, you will go grinning to your doom.

Signless walks along beside you, gesturing as he talks, “So you have resigned yourself to a life you never wanted? Have you ever thought about rejecting the inevitable?”

Oh you think about escaping every day but have always been too afraid to try, “Of course I’ve thought about it. But those are just dreams. There’s a reason I call it inevitable.”

Signless looks at you, serious and obviously thinking deeply. “I believe you are worth more than that.” 

You are taken aback by the compliment, “Yes, well, unlike you I don’t believe I can change the world. I’m too scared to try. Who knows what worse fate awaits me if I resist.”

He shakes his head and looks away, “I was not going to tell you this so soon, but I have seen you before. I know you.”

You gawk at him. “I… You know me? How can you?” You would remember a face like his, “I’ve never seen you before and its not like you have a common face. I think I would remember your lack of sign if I’d seen you before.” As far as you know he’s never been in this town before now and you’ve spent your whole life here. 

He still isn’t looking at you, his gesturing has stopped and he looks almost tense in the moonlight, “I have these visions. I knew immediately who you were when you stepped through that establishment's door. I know you, Captor.” You stop walking and he turns to face you, “And I know you are worthy of more than the inevitable.” He is more serious and still than you have ever seen him. You stand frozen.

His eyes are boring deep into yours. You almost sink into their depths, uncomprehending. This close you can see the flecks of red in his eyes, its a sign of his encroaching adulthood. Soon he won’t be able to hide his color at all.

You open your mouth, then falter, not sure what to say. “How?” Your voice is faint, almost pleading.

“I have visions. In my visions trolls live in harmony, high and low blood alike, and in my visions you have always been by my side.”

You can say nothing to that. He continues, “So when you walked through that door there was nothing on Alternia that could stop me from recognizing you, even when you did not seem to know me.” He is grinning now, his eyes shining bright. “I could not let you escape into the unknown when I had only just found you. I did not mind that you did not know me, none from my visions have known me from them, but seeing you there seemed inevitable. You felt right.”

You don’t know what to say to this revelation. 

Somehow you believe him. 

You cannot ignore how your heart has been singing ever since you laid eyes on him. You breathe out deep. Then look up at him, “I don’t know why but… I think I believe you.”

The utter relief that washes over his face is astonishing. He is so expressive. You feel drawn to him. You feel more alive when he talks than from all your life combined. 

Is this what serendipity feels like?


	5. The Sound of his Cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut round two. time for more of those tasty tags to come into play

You learn that his name was Kankri. Kankri Vantas. He knows your own wriggler name of course. Mituna Captor he calls you. Mituna Captor. You haven't heard that name in a sweep. Not since your lusus wandered off to find a new grub. Not since you gained your title. 

You somehow make it back to his rent block above the recreational drinking establishment you first saw him in. He is talking all the while of his visions. 

The two of you were fast friends he says, childhood friends. He knows of your biclops lusus. He knows of your wrigglerhood name. He knows that you hear the voices of the imminently deceased. He knows you get migraines. 

Somehow you end up sitting with him on his couch as he talks. He says that the visions come to him randomly in bursts of color and sound and smell, but mostly feelings. They come in his dreams without warning and without relent, blinding cascades of experiences, like deja vu, packed into a tight ball and thrown directly into his head.

Somehow Signless knows so much he shouldn't, this stranger, this man. He does not have a psychic power you have ever heard of before. He does not have a blood color you have ever seen before. You have never seen him before, never heard of his name nor message and yet…

You have always had an inkling of when things are about to go wrong. You hear a person cry out before they die and feel the doom in the air days before natural disasters. 

This feels right. 

“Apart from my mother you are the first one I found. Well, that's not quite true. I’ve seen familiar strangers before and I didn’t exactly find my mother. She found me. I would not be here without her. If she had not found me who knows what would have happened.

“But by the time in her life when she found me she was well and truly known as the Dolorosa. I do not remember it myself but she told me she was so shocked when one day I called her Porrim. I was so young then and had a hard time differentiating the dreamt up trolls from the waking ones. She knew I had vivid dreams but did not even contemplate the possibility that they were real until I disclosed that little knowledge nugget. After that day she really started to listen to what I had to say about my dreamt up world.”

You are both leaning back on the couch. You can’t keep your eyes off him, clinging to every word he says. “How many others are there?” You ask.

“Including you two, Eleven. I see many many trolls in my dreams but the same eleven faces always shine through.”

“And I’m only the second one you’ve met?” 

“Well, yes. You know on that night when you walked into the bar, I didn’t even realize we had not met before. I see you so much in my dreams that I did not question your presence there that night.” He laughs. “I’m just glad I did not scare you away with my presumptuousness. You would have had every right to reject me.” 

You have leaned forward by this point, drawn to him, “Yet here I am.”

He turns to face you. You are so close you almost touch. “Yet here you are.”

You can see the bright flecks of red in his eyes. You can feel his breath mingling with your own. You sway forward. “Can I kiss you?”

His face breaks into a grin. “You stole the question from my lips.” Then he is leaning forward and his lips are brushing against yours. 

This time you don’t hesitate. You’re already climbing on top of him by the time his arms wrap around your waist. Your fangs catch on his lip and you tuck them out of the way before they can cause harm. He nips at your lip in return. “Do you like that? Tell me what you want. I want to give you everything, anything.” He kisses you hard, shifting you closer to him. “What do you want?”

You can’t think of anything. “No pressure.” You joke. He is already giving you so much.

He chuckles. “No pressure. I can give you that. Let me lead. But tell me if you want to stop, I just want you to feel good.” 

“I might be able to think of some things I want.” You can think of a few things, but there is one place you would prefer to start.

“Anything.” He says, the heat in his voice only rivaled by the heat of his body beneath you. 

“Then kiss me,” You reply. He surges against you, pulling you tighter together. One of his hands goes to the back of your head and scratches lightly at the base of your hair, making you melt. His other hand makes its way down your back to knead at your ass. 

You brace yourself against the back of the couch and let him take you. His mouth is hot and sweet against your own. He kisses you with passion. You’re not sure how you want this to go but you’d rather it didn’t go how it did last night. He hit you hard and fast, you didn’t have time to think. This time you want to appreciate the experience. Time to slow this down.

You card both hands through his hair, feeling the smooth strands flow through your fingers. You kiss him while you do, your lips moving wetly together. He lets out a rumble as your claws scratch closer to his horns. It’s a deep throaty sound that vibrates up through your lips. You want more. When you do reach the base of his horns, keeping your touch light and your claws away, his hands stop entirely form their roaming around your body. Instead, they rest as if forgotten on your back.

He breaks away briefly, “This is nice. Keep going.”

You peck him once on the lips, “I can do that.” The low rumble transitions into an uneven purr when you fully circle his horns with the pads of your fingers. You’re still keeping the pressure light but even you know what that must be doing to him. You have two sets of overly sensitive horns yourself. 

He keeps shifting his hips as if he wants to rock into you. You leave his lips to kiss your way down his throat and his purr stutters before continuing louder than before. 

You love all the reactions you’re getting from him and it only makes you want to uncover more. You rub your hands up to the tips of his horns, pressing at the keratinous surface slightly harder while kissing back up his throat and watch as he groans and arches slightly under you, almost restless.

Before you can claim his lips again he mutters, “I thought you wanted me to take charge.” You pause. It’s true, a few minutes ago you were unsure and ready to go the easy route. But this is hot and you don’t want to stop.

“Is that you telling me to get off?” you want to make sure you’re reading him right.

“Mmm, no. I am enjoying this. Keep going.” So you do. You keep kissing him and smoothing your palms up and down his horns, scratching at the roots and rubbing up to the tip in turn. Signless gets more breathless as you continue until his claws are twitching at your back and his hips are squirming almost constantly. 

His hand catches the back of your zipper and tugs down and suddenly your suit is falling loosely around your shoulders. “Please.” He says. You relent. You climb up and off him, watching him blink his eyes open at your sudden absence. But you aren’t gone long. You tug your one-piece off quickly before clambering back over him. Then you are tugging his own clothes off and after a second he is eagerly helping you.

As soon as the clothes are gone you climb back into position. His skin is so hot, you have to stop and shiver as his bulge makes contact with your own and then they are twining around each other, pulling the two of you closer.

You were going to go slow with this but you bulge has other ideas. Signless latches onto you with both arms and pulls you close again, kissing you as you settle back into position. 

The first sensual curls of his bulge are overwhelming and you groan and shudder into his ear until you can gather yourself and remember where you were up to. 

You bring your hands back up to his horns and the change is astounding. Every touch of your hands on his horns echoes through his bulge. His bulge grips at yours and trembles making you shudder again and breath heavy into his mouth. And that is only what it does to _you_. 

Signless is making noise constantly. He pants and groans, pulling you closer. His whole body moves at your touch. You squeeze around the base of his horns and he shakes under you. You cover them both completely with the palm of your hand and he goes lax, panting into your mouth and kneading at your back with absent claws. His bulge trembles where it’s wrapped around yours sending the vibrations through your bulge in waves of pleasure. 

He is so receptive to your touch. Then suddenly his hands are moving up to your own horns and the world goes hazy.

Everything sense focuses down to touch. You can feel every point of contact with him from his thighs under your own to his chest pressed up against you. 

Most intense of all is the sinuous movement of your bulge. It wriggles and coils frantically, seeking the slick heat of the bulge against it and echoing the shuddering of your body as Signless tugs your horns with warm hands, pulling you closer and mashing your mouths together. All you can do is hang on, and try to move your hands on his horns in turn. Every time you do his bulge grips yours harder and wriggles faster. 

Your hips are undulating now, pressing your bulges together between your slick smeared stomaches, giving them a tight crevice to coil into. You can hardly remember to move your hands as you are overwhelmed with sensation, but you try. 

Signless has started swearing against you, your lips barely touching. Then his hands squeeze tight over your horns and a spurt of wet warmth leaks out from between you. He tenses, coming, his bulge slow against your own still squirming one. 

You still feel frantic against him especially with his hands gripping your horns so tight. You don’t know what sounds you’re making but you can’t think to care. You hump against him, feeling the pleasure build in you as your bulge coils around his still bulge in the wet tight heat between you. Then finally it reaches its peak and you feel your own bulge release. The pleasure washes over you in waves, leaving you in ripples as your whole body tenses and you let sensation take over.

You shake against Signless for a while. Eventually, your body relaxes and the endless aftershocks stop. Signless is dead weight under you. One of his hands is stroking up and down your back as you come down. You didn’t even notice when he let go of your horns, you were too overwhelmed.

By this stage you’re starting to feel the sticky slickness between you and the ache in your knees from your legs being folded up for so long.

You clamber off him and sort of slump sideways onto the couch, a tremor still caught under your skin, and heave out a deep breath. 

“Sleep?” you ask. He grunts back. You turn your head and see that his eyes are closed. Honestly, you feel the same. Sleep it is then. 

Again you lift the two of you up with the endless strength of your psionics and lower both of you into the coon. The warm slime envelopes you and you let it take you off to sleep.


	6. The Sign of his Heart

You spend the next day with him. But before that, you meet his mother for the second time. She wakes you both with breakfast and an apology. 

She did not recognize you from Signless’ descriptions until he told her who you were. But now that she knows you are not just some stranger off the street, she greets you warmly. It’s an easy mistake to make. All she had was a description and it’s not like you were wearing your sign when she found you in the ‘coon with him. 

Dolorosa is a delight. Though Signless doesn’t seem to think so. He seems endlessly embarrassed by the stories Dolorosa tell about him even though he himself was telling you all about his life yesterday. You are still intimidated by her even as you snicker over a cup of grubtea. She is an adult troll after all. Her dark gray skin and tall curving horns tell of sweeps of experience over you even though you _have_ gone through your adult molt yourself. You would need another lifetime to catch up with her and even then she would be leagues ahead of you.

It’s hard to let go of your childhood fears. It’s hard and nobody understands or even has to know that you're still plagued by them. You are an adult dammit. It just doesn’t feel like it yet.

You can tell Signless is feeling the same way though that might just be because she is his lusus, as weird as you find that concept. You can tell he learned to strife from her. She has the same fluid grace you saw from him in the bar even if she is only drinking grubtea. 

Both of you leave her after breakfast. She has errands to run she says and waves you out the door. 

You spend the day showing Signless around your town. Though he ends up doing most of the talking. It feels easy, just wandering the streets with him, chatting aimlessly. He has so many stories to tell about his preaching. He says he has only been doing it for half a sweep but in that time he has met so many people in so many different places. 

This is his first time here in your hometown. He says that tomorrow he plans to move on to another town. He says that they were planning to leave here today but now that he’s found you he couldn't bear to depart on such short notice. But still, he must leave.

You have to pause. You stop walking completely. You think about your absent lusus, of the friends you don’t have. You think about his adventures and how good it felt to stand by his side. You think about having to find another troll when drone season comes. You think about the deep well of admiration you feel for this stranger. If he leaves, he will stay a stranger.

There is only one decision you could ever make. “Can I go with you?” you ask. 

His grin back is blinding. “I thought you would never ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> And that concludes this fic. :)


End file.
